


Justin Breeds Timothee

by KylerFey



Category: Justin Bieber (Musician), Timothée Chalamet - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Breeding, Brother/Brother Incest, Ejaculate, Father/Son Incest, Gay Sex, Large Cock, M/M, Mpreg, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 05:25:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19078357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KylerFey/pseuds/KylerFey
Summary: "Justin is an alpha like me—but one of a very special bloodline that the Combine is carefully controlling—and he chafes against the restrictions we have placed upon him, forbidding him from breeding until the time is right."





	Justin Breeds Timothee

Soon a car would arrive carrying to my home Timmy, one of my many biological sons, the boy known publicly as the actor Timothée Chalamet. Another of them, the boy known publicly as the popstar Justin Bieber, lounged on a chaise on my deck, taking a little break after a session of snorting lines of coke off my dick and sucking the hot white snot out of my balls. The full explanation of how and why these boys are my sons is too long and would be better for another time, but the too-long-didn’t-read version is that a secret alpha/omega cult known as the Combine Acceleration, back in the mid-90s, identified me as a super-breeder and enlisted me in a breeding project to protect the survival of our sub-species and eventually enable us to take over the planet from the “norms.” I fucked and impregnated more than two thousand omega boys over a period of about six years. Most of the sons born of my sperm were placed with adoptive norm parents who were ordered to raise them as their natural children until the arrival of the fabled “Acceleration” of our people.

  
Justin is an alpha like me—but one of a very special bloodline that the Combine is carefully controlling—and he chafes against the restrictions we have placed upon him, forbidding him from breeding until the time is right. But he visits me often and we have fun fucking each other. Sometimes my husband Danny—a norm dude—joins us. He likes sheathing his fat dong in Justin’s snatch and putting a load in him. Or sometimes we go out cruising for random cocks and assholes. One time, while in the park among a grove of ancient trees, I actually had to pull Justin off a boy who proved to be an omega in heat. I knotted that kid myself, knocked him up, while Justin worked out his heavy thick flood of cum in my mouth.

  
Justin likes to act like a hard-ass. Sometimes when we are together, he calls me a dirty faggot and a filthy cocksucker and he orders me to take to my knees and suck him off or drink his piss straight from the hot tap, or he demands that I let him fuck me in the ass. Sometimes I agree—I like his fat dirty dong in my mouth and my asshole—but sometimes I put him in his place as a daddy must sometimes do with his boys. Sometimes he takes against his ass the well-worn wooden paddle that I must occasionally bring out to help my boys be good boys. Sometimes I remind him of that day when I wrecked his cherry on his sixteenth birthday. He’d been a bit of a late bloomer physically, but when I’d learned he was ready for me, I’d ordered—by way our organization—his adoptive mother and his career manager to send him to me for a weekend. The part of this anecdote that he hates every time I recount it is the moment when he literally cried the first time I worked my dick, my thick-barreled ten-incher, into his snatch. But know, just so you don’t think I’m a sadist, that I prepped him very well for his first cock-penetration. I ate his pussy for over an hour, I lubed him well, I started with one finger and then two and then three. But my dick is pretty fucking thick and it scared him because he was still a growth-spurt away from being his reaching its current size, which is now nearly the same as mine. He cried a little bit once it was all the way inside, but that did not diminish the thrill of emptying my whole fucking nuts inside his gut. And when we flipped positions, he rammed my hole like a maniac. He came three times without pulling out in between, just like a fresh new alpha.

  
Today he says, “What are you making me wait for, Daddy? I got a load so fucking fat I can’t keep it in much longer!” He showed me: he clenched his ruddy, purple-knobbed shaft in one fist and oozed some pre-jac. Actually, it was white, a thick lava flow, like he was already cumming in slow motion. He stroked on it slowly, each downward tug pulling the foreskin away from his filthy cheesy cock-crown, each tug making more cocksnot drool and well from his dick’s wide slit.

  
“We’re waiting for Timmy,” I said.

  
“Timmy who?”

  
“Your brother Timmy.”

  
He sat up. “Timothée? _That_ Timmy?”

  
“He’s in heat.”

  
Justin looked at me with a puzzlement that suggested that he did not dare even hope for what I was about to say. But I said it: “You’re gonna knock him up. When he leaves here, he’ll have a Justin-pup in his belly.”

  
Justin ejaculated. A wild fountain of thick cum launched straight up from his prick and splatted down like white paint on his heavily-inked belly and chest, and on his face as well. He laughed. “I guess I should have saved that!”

  
“You’ll make plenty more.”

  
“Fuck yeah, I will! I never run out! When’s he gonna be here?”

  
“About an hour.”

  
“Should I take a shower? Do I smell bad?”

  
“You smell like a fucking sweaty jockstrap-slash-cumrag. And I can smell your wet hairy armpits from here. But I know Timmy will _like_ that. Not that he’ll really care one way or another. He is in heat: he will want any alpha cock he can get in his snatch, even one as dirty as yours.” I considered the jizz-spattered boy for a moment and decided I could at least clean him up a bit. He lay back and let me lap up all his spilled spunk, most of which I spat into his mouth. After a minute or two his skin was clear of cum. My phone beeped alerting me that Timmy’s car was about to pull up, earlier than expected. I told Justin to wait just as he was on the deck and that I’d go down to greet Timmy and bring him up.

  
The kid was just entering the open-air foyer that leads in the house’s great-room when I greeted him. And I could _smell_ him when he was still a dozen meters away. That special scent of an omega boy deep in heat is mostly indiscernible to a common man, but to an alpha it has an instant impact: my pulse quickened, my cock engorged, I started sweating from my pits. Suddenly, my thinking clouded by lust, I thought something like this: _Why give this son to your other son? You could take him for yourself right now_. But I shook that thrilling thought away. The mission to breed him with Justin was too important to the Combine for me to fuck it up now.  
My son’s reaction to me was evidently just as intense. He rushed toward me and embraced me, arms clutched around my waist and his face pressed into my belly. Then he arched back and then upward and pressed his tongue against my lips and he rubbed the bulge of his hard-on, barely concealed in white linen shorts, against my thigh. I allowed the kiss, and the urge to relieve Timothée’s heat by busting a load inside him got worse. I had an idea: “Timmy, stand right here and take your shorts off.”

  
He grinned. “Are you gonna finally do me, Daddy? Will you give me your pup?”

  
I still remember vividly the twink fuck that was Timothée’s birth parent, that very young omega in his first heat. It’s easy to remember because Timmy looks nigh the mirror of that boy. His eyes now look like those of his birth parent’s when I was nailing him, when he was deep in heat and desperate for my cock in his cunt, desperate for my knot to swell inside him, desperate for the quart of cum that would make his baby. “No, Tim. Listen to me: you are going to get pregged quite soon, but not by me.”

  
“Then who?”

  
“Your brother. Justin.”

  
“Which one? I have like 137 brothers named Justin.” It was probably closer to 200, actually.

  
“Bieber.”

  
His mouth fell open, and a dribble of drool for a moment depended from his lower lip and then fell to floor between my feet. He said, “You’re fuckin’ _kidding_ me!”

  
“I’m not.”

  
He stepped back from me and literally jumped and down a few times, wagging his arms. “You’re telling me that _that_ Justin—my hot popstar brother Justin—is here right now and he’s gonna bang the fuck outta this shit.” He gripped his asscheeks in both hands.

  
“Yes, that’s the truth. But you’re going a little crazy here—“ _as if I wasn’t_ — “so, in order to make your meeting him for the first time not a shitshow, will you let me calm you down a bit?”

  
“Sure, Daddy!”

  
I reminded him to drop his shorts, and as soon as he did, I went to the tile floor on my knees and buried my face in his sweaty, omega-heat-drenched crotch and swallowed his long pole all the way, my nose against his damp pubes. He held my head and humped my face, and I worked one finger behind his ballsack and along his taint and then, in and in a bit further when I found his pussy-hole. He screamed a little bit and heaved out sobs and laughter. About four seconds of fingering his little omega-clit inside his chute seemed to pull a trigger in his crotch and he dumped his juice into my throat. I am not exaggerating it when I say it was a lot of cum. I nearly gagged and had to hard-chug it to get it all down without a major spill. The horny little fuck must have put out a full half-cup. Omega jizz is usually sweeter than alpha cum or norm cum. Timothée’s had a rich fruity note and a curiously sharp after-bite, like a cup of warm passionfruit puree with a shot of mezcal in it.

  
“I think that _did_ help, Daddy!”

  
“Yeah, except now I am the one who needs some help.” Hands on his shoulders, I pressed him to his knees as I stood up and hung my hard dong over his face. “Open your mouth.” It only took me like ten or twelve tugs on my meat to make myself drop a nut right into the kid’s open mouth. And more of it on his lips and nose and chin.

When we finally reached the deck, Justin sat up on his chaise and said, “Kyler, it took you forever!”

  
Timothée followed a few steps behind me, and he and Justin immediately locked eyes. I said, “It took a minute because I needed to calm him down at least a little bit by sucking him off. And then _myself_ by jacking off in his mouth.”

  
Timmy stepped straight toward Justin, hands extended. “My brother!”

  
“Nice to meet you at last, Timothée.” Jaustin rose to his feet, naked, his heavy alpha dong rising like a fat plantain from his sweaty tangled bush. My sons embraced and kissed wetly, chins glossed with spit, for at least a full minute, and I watched, mentally beating off to their beauty. I wondered if I preferred one over the other? Do I like best Justin’s muscle-ripped ink-covered torso or Timmy’s slender ur-twinkish body? My dick and balls do not discriminate: they like every son of their spew.  
I considered whether I wanted to take them up to my bedroom suite for their mating or just let them have at it right there outside on the deck. The boys decided it for me by falling quickly into the mating lust, the hot-blood fuck-fever. I can see why it looks rapey to straight norms: the rutting alpha—taken over by his fuck-imperative—usually forces his omega down to his back, and usually fingers the omega’s mouth open so that he may spit into it, marking his dominion over the omega’s body. Justin did this, a rippling arch of boy-fuck over Timothée, drooling a thick fat spit-streamer into his smaller brother’s open mouth. But what the straights don’t understand is that the omega wants it exactly like this and that it his ecstatic hormone-thrill of getting his alpha just where he wants him that will max out his fertility and ensure what happens next.

  
A norm dude—as much as he may like to fuck—has no frame of reference for what happens when a mating alpha knots inside his omega. Both boys screamed for a couple sharp short seconds in that moments after Justin sheathed his dong balls-deep in Timothée’s cunt. Sweat rained from Justin’s brow down onto Timmy’s chest and the boys clenched together, Timothée exerting to tackle Justin’s prong and Justin briefly panicking at the sensation that his meat was exploding, coming apart inside his brother. If you’re a dude with a penis, imagine for a split-second your prick in a vice and your balls smashed under a hammer, but then that pain ends instantly and you are in and In and IN. If you’re a straight chick getting fucked by your norm boyfriend, imagine his fat filthy rod swelling like a ballon inside your slick snatch until you can’t take another instant of it, and then the pain stops and you are in love again.

  
Justin and Timothée—just two of my thousands of sons—fucked like this for almost two hours. Sometimes they were vigorous and throbbing and crying about it, and sometimes they were quiet, almost as if they were falling asleep against each other. Honestly, it got kind of dull after a while (as it can to an observer) so I went inside to answer some emails and do a couple lines. One email was from my son Ezra (the actor Miller) who apprised me of his plan to impregnate his own sons just as soon as they were viable for it, which he said would be “any day now.” He’s a kinky fuck, and shortly after he became “viable” for breeding, he hooked back up with his birth parent—the beautiful faery-omega that I’d seeded to create him—and they’d started a BDSM relationship which led to Ezra impregnating that dude with identical omega triplets. “It’s amazing how they have your eyes, Daddy!” he said. These were the boys he now intended to breed himself. I sent him my blessing on this plan and eventually brought a bottle of wine out to the deck to watch the climax between Justin and Timmy.

  
Which was in process:  
Justin grunted and shouted “oh _fuck_ , baby!” a few times, and beneath him, his ankles against his ears, Timmy yelled “give it to me, you hot dumb fuck!”  
I knew from my thousands of experiences with this, that Justin was in that little penultimate piece of the fuck where he would give anything to let out his super-heated spunk and relieve his severely congested balls but he just couldn’t quite do it yet. He needed one final prompt from Timmy, which the boy soon gave him: “Fucking _bust_ it, Justin! Cum, my big man! I’m _yours!_ Knock me _all_ the way the fuck up!”

  
Justin spasmed hard through his whole body and both boys started crying—joyfully—and Justin released his gigantic backed-up load, laughing, tears falling from his eyes onto Timmy’s face. It’s normal for a rutting breeding alpha to take a couple full minutes to work out his whole orgasm, and this was the case here as well. And then it was another couple minutes before his knot had subsided enough for him to withdraw his dong from Timmy’s snatch. When he finally did so, he pulled out with it a slopping half-cup of his white juice, scooped by his wide arrowhead, but there was plenty more still inside. Only one sperm cell of the trillion that Justin had pumped into Timothée was needed to preg the boy.

  
I needed to work out another load. I drew Justin to the rail and made him lean over it. With just spit and pre-jac as lube, I screwed my shaft into his hole. “Now, you do it to me,” I told Timmy. With little effort on his part—because I’d pre-lubed my chute—Timothée slid his stick into me. I shot my next load like this, with my own rod inside one of my sons and the other son with his inside me. Timmy and I spewed almost at the same moment—him into my gut, me into Justin’s—and a moment after that I marveled at how full a load Justin had been ready to make again as I saw it arch off the deck toward the swimming pool below.

  
The boys spent the night, and we fucked a few more times. Timothée left the next morning, pregnant by his brother. Justin and I waited for his next breeding partner to arrive.


End file.
